(T'Challa POV)
I look at Claude de Ruyter. To think that I would meet him here and right as I was supposed to as well, when he was about to capture Ororo. I don't feel anger when I look at him, just contempt. Claude de Ruyter comes from a family that, for at least two generations, has been obsessed with capturing a Wind Rider. While his older brother, Andreas, considered their father and grandfather to be loony terrorists and refused to follow in their footsteps, Claude continued their mission.
"Where are my men?" he asks me and points his sniper rifle at me.
I wait for him to shoot. I have been training for years now and have faced dangers greater than this one. I feel my muscles flex and get ready for the moment he pulls the trigger. I hear his heartbeat and his breathing, smell his sweat, and see his jaw clench.
"What are you waiting for?" I ask him.
"Begone, boy. Begone while you can."
"Boy? Your arrogance knows no bounds. Come now, you won't stop now, will you? Shoot. Show me you're masculinity."
"Do you think I won't? Do you have a death wish?" he asks me.
I don't answer and start walking towards him. I see his finger twitch and dodge to the side before the tranquiliser dart can hit me. His confusion is enough time for me to cross the distance and grab the rifle. I pull it out of his grip and throw it away, forcing him to face me with his fists. Claude is angry, but he's also fat and untrained, meaning this is as useless as a fight can get.
"You little shit!" he shouts and throws a punch at me.
I move to the side lightly and kick his leg. He loses his balance and falls forward. But as he does so, I meet his face with a powerful uppercut, smashing my fist into his chin and knocking the sod out.
*BAAM*
I walk towards Ororo and pick her up, in a princess carry, of course. I need to make an impression.
"Who are you?" she asks me weakly.
"T'Challa."
"Thank... you... T'Challa," she says, and finally fails to stay awake any longer, succumbing to the tranquiliser dart.
"You are welcome, young Windrider. To think I'd meet you this early... aren't I fortunate."
*Click*
I turn around and look into the barrel of various guns pointed at me. The fellow 'urchins', as they call themselves or others call them, have arrived.
"I mean you no harm. If you wouldn't mind, she's just unconscious. A tranquiliser dart, you see." I speak to them in Swahili, the official language in Kenya. I am led to their village and meet with their leader.
"These children tell me you saved my students," he says.
"And you are?"
"I am called Teacher," he says.
"And what do you teach?"
"Whatever is required to survive."
"Is that so? How vague."
"And what's your name?" Teacher asks me.
"T'Challa."
"My students ran ahead of you. They told me you fought a good fight, a spirited battle. Many of my students have been injured. Bring them here."
I carry Ororo into the house and lay her down on a table.
"You did not allow my students to kill the men. Why is that?"
"It wasn't necessary."
"One day, not killing the enemy may become your biggest mistake. Then you will understand."
"I would have killed them if I thought it necessary. But those who have harmed your 'students' were punished and will not be able to repeat those things. Letting them live serves another purpose, though." I tell him.
"And what might that be?"
"Spread fear," I say, not revealing my true purpose yet.
"Is that so? But you let the men who did this live? Men who attack girls and beat children. You are strong, but far from wise, young warrior. Always kill your enemy. Kill their children. That is how you kill the snake. Because children grow up to become your enemy, renewed."
"An interesting view for a street rat and thief. A child is not responsible for the sins of their parents. You speak of wisdom, but all you have is experience, and that is not in the art of war, is it?"
"And what would you know? You look like an escaped prisoner. Are you not a thief as well?" Teacher asks me.
"Please. Did my appearance tell you that? Have you not yet learned not to judge a book by its cover?" I ask him.
"Where do you come from? The way you talk speaks of arrogance and pride. I might have made a mistake. But you're no homeless boy, at least you weren't."
"I come from Wakanda."
"..."
"Wakanda?"
"Yes."
"So you're... T'Challa, son of T'Chaka? Offspring of warriors supreme?"
"..."
He looks at me, and apparently, he takes my silence as a confirmation of his thoughts. It doesn't matter anyway. He won't be following me, and even if he were, he won't be getting into Wakanda, now that I am the 'unofficial' King of Wakanda. Unless you're of divine calibre, you won't be getting into Wakanda, even if you wanted to. And this will only get increasingly hard as I grow stronger.
"Say, T'Challa. Legend has it your father defeated Captain America in hand-to-hand combat." Teacher asks.
"It was not hand-to-hand."
"It wasn't?"
"He had his shield, and his body had been enhanced with a serum. His performance was augmented."
"I see."
Although I'm not one to talk, technically, my abilities haven't been augmented. I grew up with the Essence. But I also won't stop at just this and will use every chance I have to grow further.
"My father's abilities and strength were natural, of his own, not manufactured in a laboratory."
"But... if that is true... how could he possibly win?" he asks me.
"I was taught that a true warrior is taught to think two steps ahead of his enemies, three ahead of his friends."
"And which will I become, T'Challa?"
"We shall see, Teacher of Thieves. We shall see."
"I teach the art of survival, as I said," he tries to explain himself.
"Don't talk to me like I'm a fool. I saw your 'art' in the village. I was there and observed your students steal and pick pockets. She stole a wig from a woman's head, then was urged by your daughter to steal the camera from those men. And none of that was for 'survival'."
"You heard what sparked this conflict, then?" he asks me.
"I did. As I just told you."
"And did you see their escape? Did you see Ororo escape?"
"You are remarking upon how she escaped, yes? Why would I tell you that? I'm sure you already know all about it. In Wakanda, we are taught honour and dignity. I shall not tell you anything. If you wish to know, have her tell you herself."
I see his face light up as I mention Wakanda again.
"Legend also has it that the ruler of Wakanda, the Black Panther-"
"Why are you concerned with the victories and legends of Wakanda? How is that of benefit to you?" I ask, despite knowing the answer to the question.
"It is merely conversation, combined with an old man's admiration. A foolish man's enthusiasm. I'm in awe. I've studied the legends of the truest warriors, and I'm in the presence of one who carries the blood of a warrior supreme. The blood of warriors from Bashenga to T'Chaka runs through your veins. Does that not excite you? You are a prince from one of the richest lands in the world, from a land that has never been conquered by anyone, one that has technology that is America's rival, a land that has more Vibranium than could ever be imagined, a land that sits on oil... Yes, I am in awe. If that offends you, I apologise."
"You know a lot, and I see that you seem tempted by what you listed. But I'm afraid, you will find no treasure in Wakanda, should you go there." I tell him.
"Why do you, a prince, travel as a pauper?" Teacher asks me.
"I am on my journey to manhood," I respond. That is a great understatement, but it's enough for him.
"Your walkabout. So many years ago, I made a similar journey. So long ago."
"..."
"T'Chaka's son."
"Yes?"
"An intellectual, a scientist, offspring of warriors. As an appreciator of both intellect and science, I am honoured to be in your presence." Teacher says.
"Then allow me to give you a warning. That man, Claude de Ruyter, is his name, will return. I told you that I didn't kill him to spread fear, but that wasn't the entire truth. The truth is that I am waiting for him to call for reinforcement. That way, I can deal with them both at the same time." I tell Teacher my plan to take out Claude and his brother.
"What? When?"
"Soon. You should organise your escape and take all the children with you. I shall remain here and deal with them when they arrive."
"That will take a few days, maybe weeks. How am I supposed to do that?" he asks me.
"As fast as possible."
.
I sit beside Ororo and wait for her to wake up. She is a strong girl and a powerful Mutant, so she will make it without a doubt. I always think about all the comics I have read, but make sure not to forget that reality can be as variable as infinity. Anything can happen, and I can't be sure something is certain just because of a comic.
"uhhhnnnnhhh..."
I hear her groan and walk over.
"Ororo?"
She opens her eyes and smiles. Oh shit... what a smile that is.
"T'Challa."
"I'm glad to see you're awake. How are you feeling?" I ask her.
"Better. Thanks to you."
"I'm afraid I can't take credit for that. Teacher made sure you would make it."
"... Did you sit here and wait for me to wake up?" she asks as she looks around the room.
"I did."
"Why would you do that? I'm a stranger to you."
"We have been in a life and death situation together; we are no longer strangers."
"Is that so?" she says and goes silent for a moment.
"Thank you for saving me, T'Challa," she says, and I nod.
"It was my pleasure, Windrider," I say, walking out of the house before she asks me about that.
Immediately, I am surrounded by children. They run towards me from all sides, all of them amazed to see someone of a higher station in life. I feel their amazement as they identify themselves before speaking, and their stories sadden me. I have been focused on growing stronger and preparing for the dangerous future, and I have forgotten about the isolation of Wakanda and the pain the rest of Africa has been going through. I will have to do something about that; thankfully, I have already done something that will help in this endeavour.
"...when I was five, I was separated from my family. Teacher saved me. The government is responsible. It's as if no one is aware of the crisis," one of the boys tells me.
"No oil, equals no publicity," I tell him, the harsh reality.
"My brother died from a respiratory infection. My sister from diarrhoea. Other relatives of malaria. My people die from illnesses that could be prevented. America, why don't they help?" another one asks me.
"I can't speak for America, but it's the same reason, I'm afraid," I tell him.
"Can you speak for Wakanda, a land richer than America? Can you speak for the Black Panther? Will you... Talk to him? Ask him if Wakanda... could do more?" another one asks me.
My father's death is not public knowledge, so they don't know about it. However, I will deal with this myself since I am the next King. Wakanda could have done more, but I will not sell out my country. There is a middle ground, though, and that step has to be taken.
"Upon my return, I will give the King a report of what I have seen, of people I have met on my journey." I say to placate their worries somewhat.
I look forward and see Ororo standing there, looking at the scene. Her eyes capture me again and pull me in. If I were back in my previous world, I might be worried about this, but here... It's still not right, but different. She is three years younger than I am, but I feel special in her presence. Despite feeling like this was too fast and a bit cliché, I can't help it. She waves at me and walks out of the camp. She is restless and unsure of herself. She wishes to be the same as everyone else, not knowing that such a thing doesn't exist. I can't help it, for some reason, I want to help her and I will.
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I will take it slow, so no intercourse yet. But they share a mutual attraction I will use from the comics, as it makes sense. But as I said, I'll take it slow. This is a harem (therefore the harem tag). If you don't like that, I'm sorry.